Heart of the Country

by Tricia Stringer

  When the government man arrived to take the count, Thomas could barely speak to him.

  “You’ve done very well, Mr Baker. This is a fine place you’ve claimed and you’ve ample stock.”

  Thomas heard the words, acknowledged them somehow, but he found no joy in them. It was Lizzie who made sure the man had all the details correct and fed him. Thomas marvelled at her strength. She had lost a lot of weight but she worked as hard as he did and always had clean clothes and linen and order in the yard around the hut, and water on hand and something for them to eat. He fell into bed each night thankful that sleep consumed him easily.

  One morning, in that small space between night and the first light of the new day, he woke to the sound of muffled sobs. He lay perfectly still, listening as Lizzie gave in to her grief. He felt so helpless.

  Finally, unable to bear her tears any longer, he moved a hand to touch hers. He heard her suck in a breath.

  “I’m here, Lizzie,” he whispered and reached out his arm.

  She rolled into him. He held her until the shudders from her tears stopped, then he kissed her hair, her wet cheeks and finally her lips.

  She slid her arms around his neck. He ran his hands under her nightgown and across her back. He felt her shiver.

  “I’ve missed you,” she whispered.

  He kissed her again with an urgency welling from deep within him.

  Slowly they came together, discovering each other all over again, as if it were their wedding night. They found solace in each other’s touch and their lovemaking brought some peace to their broken hearts.

  When Lizzie finally slid from his arms, sunlight was streaming around the gaps in the door of the hut. The sheet was a bundle on the floor with her nightclothes and his. He watched her as she took the two steps to the door. She was so thin. He reached out a hand, not wanting her to leave.

  “Come on, husband,” she chided. “We can’t stay in bed all day.”

  He propped himself up on one elbow. “Unless you put some clothes on I might drag you back.”

  She threw him a cheeky look. It reminded him of happier times. “I’m going to wash in the creek.” She took her dress from the hook. “You can join me if you want.”

  “In the creek? Someone might see us.”

  “Oh, Thomas.” She giggled and let herself out the door.

  He sighed and lay back on the bed, listening as Lizzie’s laugh mingled with the calls of the morning birds. Just for a moment they’d forgotten the pain of their loss.

  Forty-five

  Lizzie sat on one of the outdoor chairs Thomas had made, an open book on her lap. He had four chairs and a rough table set up in the shade of the trees closer to the creek. In the evenings they sometimes got a breeze, which helped keep the flies away. She was so grateful to have Thomas back and safe. She had worried he might blame her for not looking after Annie well enough. She questioned her care of her baby but Thomas hadn’t, not once. He hadn’t turned away from her, hadn’t blamed her.

  A figure approached her from along the creek. She recognised Thomas’s long gait. Gulda had been with him when they’d gone to investigate a waterhole further along the creek. Now her husband was alone. She stood up as he came closer.

  “I just had to sit for a while,” she said. “I find reading helps me take my mind off … things. Would you like tea? There’s still some cake –”

  “You should rest more,” he said. “You were very sick and you work too hard.”

  “So do you,” she said.

  “It helps …”

  They shared the same grief. There was no need for explanation.

  “Coo-ee!”

  They looked around. A rider was making his way towards them. He lifted a hand in a brief wave.

  Lizzie sucked in a sharp breath. “It’s Jacob.”

  “I should have ridden over to tell them about Annie, and sent word to your parents.”

  Lizzie took his hand as they stood side by side, watching her brother’s approach. She hadn’t wanted to spread the word either. It was bad enough dealing with their own grief.

  “This won’t be easy,” Thomas said as Jacob drew closer.

  “I’ll tell him,” Lizzie said. She could tell by the droop of Jacob’s shoulders that something was wrong.

  “Hello, sister dearest,” he said as he got down from his horse.

  Thomas took the reins. Lizzie hugged her brother. When he lifted his head, his customary grin was missing.

  “I’ve bad news,” Jacob said.

  Lizzie linked an arm through his. “So have we, I’m afraid.”

  Thomas took the horse to water while Lizzie led Jacob to the chairs overlooking the creek. He looked up at Jacob’s cry. Brother and sister clung together. Thomas gave them a few minutes then he joined them.

  “I’m so sorry.” Jacob pulled him close. Thomas stiffened. He couldn’t bear to go over Annie’s death again.

  “Is Zac well?” he asked when Jacob finally let him go. “What’s your news?”

  “We are all well as far as I know. Once we reached Smith’s Ridge, Samuel and Edmund only took a night’s rest then they headed for home. I can only assume they arrived safely. It’s probably just as well they left when they did.”

  “Why?” Lizzie asked. “For pity’s sake tell us what’s happened.”

  “Two days after we arrived, the government man came.”

  “Yes, he came to us later,” Lizzie said and lowered herself to a chair.

  “We lost a few sheep by the time we made Smith’s Ridge,” Jacob said. “And more in the days that followed.”

  “You arrived with the right quota,” Thomas said. “That’s all that counts.”

  “That’s true, but he said we’d got there too late. Showed us the lease, signed a week earlier than we thought. Then another man turned up.” Jacob clenched his hat in his hands. “He said he was our financial backer. Said he paid for most of the sheep for our place and that we hadn’t made it in time so he was taking up the lease.”

  “What?” Lizzie jumped up.

  “That can’t be,” Thomas said at the same time.

  “That’s what Zac and I said, but he showed us the papers.”

  “The lease for Smith’s Ridge was signed the same time as Wildu Creek,” Thomas said.

  “I thought so too but the man who backed us got Father to sign it and then he took it to Adelaide.” Jacob’s shoulders slumped even lower. “Our date was a week before yours. The government man looked over it and agreed we hadn’t filled our quota by the due date. He may have let it go if it hadn’t been for the backer standing beside him, demanding we forfeit the lease.”

  “I thought Father was paying for everything,” Lizzie said.

  “He didn’t have the money,” Jacob replied.

  Thomas recalled his concerns that George Smith was stretching his finances to help his sons.

  “Surely a decent man would give you some grace,” Thomas said. “Who is this backer that he can turn up so quickly, the same day as the government man, and take what should be yours?”

  “His name is Septimus Wiltshire.”

  “Wiltshire?” Lizzie frowned. “Is he the same man who used to come around the district hawking goods?”

  “I don’t know. Father was the one to do the deal. After I leave you, I’m going home to find out more.”

  The late afternoon sky had turned grey and the gully breeze stirred the trees with a rush of cool air. Unease wormed its way into Thomas’s chest.

  “What did this Wiltshire look like?”

  “Tall and quite handsome in an angular way,” Lizzie said. “Mother called him charismatic, as I recall.”

  “Piercing grey eyes?”

  “Why, yes. How did you know?

  “He sounds remarkably like the man that sold me the stolen horse. His name was Seth Whitby, very similar, don’t you think?”

  “Could they be the same man?” Jacob asked.

  “Possibly,” Lizzie said.

&
nbsp; Jacob scratched his head. “Why would Father take up with a horse thief?”

  “Mr Wiltshire the hawker didn’t act like a thief.” Lizzie plucked a book from behind her. “And his wife was very kind. She loaned me this book. I’ve never seen her since to give it back. It feels special because of the name inside. It belonged to a lady called Hester Baker.”

  Thomas stared at the little book in Lizzie’s hand. He’d never taken much notice of it before but now he could see it was like the set of books that had belonged to his mother. The books that had been in the stolen trunk. “Let me see it.” He traced his finger carefully over the neat letters of the handwritten name.

  “Is Hester Baker a relation?” Lizzie asked. “I didn’t think you had any other family.”

  “She was my mother.”

  “Surely not.” Lizzie frowned at him. “Mrs Wiltshire said it had belonged to her mother-in-law.”

  “I don’t care what story she spun.” Thomas tapped the book against the palm of his hand. “This book was my mother’s. I left it in the trunk that Seth Whitby stole. If he is this Septimus Wiltshire, your father has been swindled by a seasoned liar and thief.”

  “Surely Father would have seen through him?” Jacob said.

  “Father did spend time alone with him,” Lizzie said. “They could have been discussing all manner of things, although that was a few years ago now.”

  “So, this Wiltshire man has taken over Smith’s Ridge?” Thomas said.

  “In a way,” Jacob said. “He doesn’t want to stay on the property. He offered Zac and me work as shepherds.”

  “Shepherds!” Thomas exclaimed. “What kind of man takes your land and then rubs salt into the wound, offering you scraps?”

  “I turned him down,” Jacob said. “But Zac decided to stay. He says there’s nothing for him back home.”

  “I want to meet this man and look at these papers myself,” Thomas growled. “You’ll stay here with Lizzie, won’t you, Jacob?”

  Lizzie put a hand on his arm. “It’s too late to go today, Thomas.”

  “And there’s no purpose,” Jacob said. “He left before I did. He’d be long gone now.”

  “Where does he live?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And Zac is there alone?” Lizzie said.

  “Wiltshire says he’s sending another man to be overseer.”

  Thomas slapped the side of his leg.

  “It’s not your worry, Thomas,” Jacob said. “You’ve got your own place to manage. We’ll get by.”

  “What will you do?” Lizzie asked.

  “I am going home to give Father the news and then I don’t know.” Jacob turned his poor crumpled hat in his hands once more. “I’ll find something somewhere else. South Australia has other opportunities. There’s plenty of work at the copper mines.”

  “You must stay with us tonight.” Lizzie stood to place a hand on her brother’s arm. “We all need each other’s company now.”

  “Lizzie’s right, Jacob. You must stay the night. Who knows when we will see you again?” Thomas gripped Jacob’s hand firmly.

  “I’ll prepare some food,” Lizzie said. “It will be ready in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  They both watched her stride off to her camp kitchen.

  “I’ve brought your bag.”

  “Bag?”

  Thomas watched as Jacob went to his horse and unhooked a bag from the saddle. Then he remembered the gifts he had purchased.

  “I don’t know what you have in here but I hope it’s tough.” Jacob held up the dirty calico package. “It was jammed in the wagon under everything else.”

  Thomas looked at the bag in Jacob’s outstretched hand as if it were a snake about to strike him. He shuddered.

  “Didn’t you have something in here for Lizzie?” Jacob jiggled the bag.

  Thomas took it and lowered himself to a chair. He tugged the drawstring. The axe with its head wrapped in leather slid to the ground between his feet. He reached in and felt for the small mirror. It too was wrapped. He set it beside the axe.

  “For Gulda and Daisy,” he said.

  Next he took out the small flat package wrapped in brown paper. He laid it across his lap. Inside his chest, a vice gripped his heart – the little dress that Annie would never wear.

  “This … this was for Annie.” The words stuck in his mouth, coming out in a hollow whisper.

  Jacob shifted closer and put a gentle hand on Thomas’s shoulder.

  Thomas pulled the last thing from the bag. Lizzie’s bonnet was now bent out of shape, the flower had fallen off and there was a hole in the crown.

  Thomas grunted as the air left his lungs.

  Jacob gripped his shoulder tightly. “She’s a strong woman, my sister.”

  “It’s been too tough.” Thomas turned the ruined bonnet around and around in his fingers. “Losing Annie and living like this –”

  “She’s never been one to want fancy things.”

  They both stared at the hat.

  “Which is just as well –” Jacob’s words were cut short by the laugh that gurgled from his throat.

  Thomas was surprised to feel the lump in his own throat dissolve in laughter. Jacob sank to the chair beside him and they both wiped tears from their eyes.

  “What were you thinking, putting something so delicate in a bag in a wagon?” Jacob chuckled again.

  Thomas stuffed the hat and the little parcel back in the bag. He’d deal with them later, when he was alone. He glanced around their camp. Jacob was right. Lizzie had never complained about the rudimentary makings of their settlement, but she deserved better. Once again he pondered the difference it might have made for Annie if only he’d waited and built a proper hut before moving them here.

  “You and Lizzie together is what matters,” Jacob said. “You’ll make Wildu Creek prosper.”

  Thomas looked at his brother-in-law as an idea began to form. “Are you in a hurry to start your new life?”

  Jacob put his head to one side. “That depends.”

  “Would you stay with us for the winter? Help me build a home for Lizzie. I can’t pay much, but you’ll be well fed.”

  Jacob’s shoulders rose from the droop they’d had since he arrived. “I don’t have anything else to do,” he said. “And I have missed my sister’s cooking.”

  “What are you two grinning about?” Lizzie was back with mugs of hot tea.

  “Jacob is staying a while to give us a hand.” Thomas pushed the calico bag into the bush behind his chair.

  “Well that’s some good news at least,” Lizzie said. “And you can begin by setting a fire here. It’s coming in cooler.”

  Jacob groaned. “I’d forgotten how good you were at giving orders.”

  Thomas listened as the two of them chatted back and forth. He was glad Jacob was staying but he couldn’t shake his earlier unease. He didn’t like the sound of this rogue, Septimus Wiltshire, who was now to be his neighbour – in name, at least. Something just didn’t feel right.

  Forty-six

  1855

  “Septimus, it’s perfect.” Harriet threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. They stood in the bigger front room of the stone cottage Septimus had acquired.

  “I’ve a good room at last, separate from the kitchen. And the windows have proper curtains.” She brushed her fingers over the soft white fabric draped in front of the glass. “And padded chairs.” She laughed with delight.

  She stood behind one of the two armchairs before the fireplace and brushed the top of it with her hands. “How did you find such a place?”

  “I bought the house, complete with furniture, from a sea captain whose wife had died.” Septimus smiled. The man had been in a hurry to return to England and had been too distraught to haggle. He had readily accepted the pittance Septimus had offered. “I promised you a home, my dear,” he said. “For you and Henry.”

  At the sound of his name the child dropped the little wooden train he�
�d been holding and rushed to his mother’s side. He grasped her hand and put the thumb of his other hand to his mouth.

  “For all of us,” Harriet corrected. “It’s our home.”

  She picked Henry up and twirled around. He giggled.

  “Yes, for all of us. Now put Henry down. He’s getting too big for that. I’ve something else to show you.”

  “He’s only five,” Harriet retorted, but put the child back on his feet.

  Immediately Henry’s eyes lost their sparkle. The thumb went back in his mouth.

  Septimus wrinkled his brow. Harriet had been too soft with the boy. Henry was wary of him. He jumped when Septimus spoke to him and cried for Harriet in the night. Septimus knew she still secretly fed him like a baby from her breast.

  Septimus had coupled with her when he’d been desperate for release but he no longer touched her breasts. He would not share her. Thank goodness for Dulcie. Now that he’d moved Harriet and Henry to Port Augusta, he could have Dulcie whenever he spent time at the little hut in the hills, without the need for secrecy. And when Harriet finally weaned that brat, he’d have her to himself again too.

  He was definitely coming up in the world – a new house, two properties and the wool income lining his pockets. He was kept busy managing his investments but he still took his hawking wagon on the road to some of his regular customers. There was no better way to find out who was doing well and who might be in need of financial support. There was always someone who could be hoodwinked and Septimus was always the one to benefit.

  “What is it you want to show me, Septimus?”

  He came back to Harriet and their new house. “Something very special,” he said and crossed the room to the bedroom door. He turned the latch and let it swing open.

  Harriet gasped from behind him. “Oh, Septimus, a four-poster bed.”

  She stepped around him into the room and ran her hands over the floral quilt.

  “It’s beautiful. And proper white pillow cases.”

  She drew back the soft netting and sat on the bed. She gave a little bounce up and down.